


October 4th

by windsweptfic



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Schmoop, anniversary fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-17
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-10 03:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windsweptfic/pseuds/windsweptfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Duty calls on Clint and Coulson's one-year anniversary. Phil is not happy. He is also one of the only people who can make Nick Fury squirm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	October 4th

**Author's Note:**

> I...completely forgot I wrote this. It was originally a one-off commentfic from a prompt from sexyspork on Livejournal. Just some schmoop and SHIELD family-ness. Written pre-movie, so no spoilers.
> 
> also how do make fic titles what

_"Do you know what day it is, Nick?"_

Nick Fury, the director of SHIELD, lover of Black Widow and one of the key minds behind the Avengers Initiative, hunched his shoulders like a schoolboy awaiting a scolding. It didn't matter that the man he was speaking with wasn't even in the room—the tight mouth and narrowed eyes translated well enough over the phone, and the deceptively even voice would have made any man wary. As it was, Nick decided to just bite the bullet, slumping back in his office chair for what would probably be a rather life-threatening conversation.

"October fourth."

_"And do you know what the significance of today's date is?"_

Nick sighed, toeing the edge of the wastebasket next to his desk. Phil could be an absolute asshole when he wanted to. And he _always_ wanted to be an asshole whenever it came to anything that set off his mother-hen senses involving Clint Barton. 

"It's yours and Clint's one-year anniversary since you started dating," he recited. "And your fifth-year anniversary of knowing each other. Because you like symmetry."

_"And during those five years, as well as the other ten before them, I have missed exactly three months and nine days of work—and one of those months was spent in a coma. Given that history, why is it I'm not at work today?"_

Nick grimaced. Phil wasn't going to let him off easy, not today. And he couldn't blame, him, really—he'd do the same thing if someone interrupted him and Natasha—but it wasn't _his_ fault two of his best agents decided to get together and thus took their absences at the same time. 

Though, really, considering the rest of the Avengers, he probably shouldn't have been surprised.

"Because you requested leave," he replied obediently, trying to sound chastised. Phil was distinctly unimpressed.

 _"Yes, I did. **Ten months ago**. Which was ample time for you to prepare for anything that might go wrong today."_ His tone sharpened. _"Do you know where Clint is right now?"_

"I'm not sure I want to—"

_"He's in bed, asleep, because you've had him pulling eighteen-hour days to track HYDRA's movements. He only had a sandwich for dinner last night because he wanted sleep more than he wanted food, and Clint **loves** food. He's been asleep for exactly seven hours and twenty-three minutes, which isn't nearly enough to make up for what he needs. Now, all that having been said—what was the favor you wanted to ask?" _

Nick stopped swiveling absently in his chair, planting his feet on the ground and leaning forward with a soft sigh. He ran his hand over his head tiredly. As much guilt as he felt, and as much as he dearly loved the two men whose day he was ruining, he was still the commander of SHIELD—and lives still depended on what he did or didn't do.

"Will you and Clint come in today?" he asked, quietly. There was a lengthy pause on the other end of the line, and Nick allowed himself a bit of hope that Phil was actually going to cut him some slack.

_"I'll ask Clint."_

He really ought have known better.

"Oh, come on, Phil!" Nick knew he was whining, but Phil _cheated_ by adding Clint into the mix. They both knew the request would still stand no matter what, but Phil was making brutally sure Nick felt as much guilt as possible. It was no secret that he saw Clint as a kind of wayward, snarky, irritatingly competent son—and that even though the Director didn't have any favorites, Clint was second only to Natasha on the nonexistent list.

 _"It's our **anniversary**."_ Phil hissed unrepentantly, his voice dropping as a door opened in the background. Nick resisted the childish desire to shout if only because Clint was the one being woken: and waking Clint too abruptly never amounted to anything good.

 _"Clint?"_ Phil called softly. Nick couldn't help the small smile that curved his lips at the gentle, loving tone in his top agent's voice. He'd watched those two dance around each others for years before they'd finally gotten past all their hang-ups: Clint with his inability to see his own self worth and Phil with the rather misplaced patience that made him insist on letting Clint make the first move. When they started dating it had been like watching two puzzle pieces try to fit together, feeling out all the uneven edges until they finally found that they were a perfect match.

_"Clint, baby, you need to wake up."_

There was the soft sound of a mattress creaking and a low, sleep-roughened voice that seemed to be mumbled through a few layers of cloth.

_"Don' wanna."_

Clint sounded completely exhausted, and Nick winced with the knowledge of what he was asking of his overworked agent, the expected guilt clenching tightly in his chest.

_"You need to. We have to get to Avengers HQ."_

_"But 'm **tired**."_

_"Nick needs us to come in."_ Phil paused, and then added because he was evil incarnate, _"Here, he's on the phone."_

Nick didn't even have a chance to protest before the sound of shuffling indicated the phone switching hands, and then Clint's soft, tired voice was speaking in his ear.

_"'lo?"_

"Hey, Clint," Nick said, immediately gentling his tone. He seriously contemplated murdering Phil at that point—because if he asked, they both knew Clint would agree. Because that was how he was, giving and giving and giving until he had nothing left: running himself into the ground without ever being told to, throwing himself into the task at hand because that was the only way he knew how to operate. And if he pushed himself too hard this time, the blame would lie directly at Nick's feet. 

"I know you're supposed to have today off," he continued, not for the first time despising what his job sometimes made him do, "But I need you to come in to brief the others on the situation with HYDRA."

 _"Cannit wait?"_ Clint asked, plaintive and a little pleading. Nick decided right then that he was going to get the marksman the ridiculously unwarranted grenade launcher he'd put in a requisition form for, just to make it up to him. He would even put up with Phil's knowing smirks.

"Afraid not. We have intel that says they're moving tonight, and we need to cut them off before they can transport their shipment out of the city."

Clint let out a low breath, and Nick could hear blankets shifting.

_"'mkay. Be there in...in...sometime soon. Needta find my gear. And boots. And...pants..."_

He trailed off into a mumble, voice fading as he wandered away from the phone.

 _"There, happy?"_ Phil asked, his voice tart.

Nick sighed.

"No. Not really."

 _"What do you have to say for yourself?"_ Phil was mercilessly unrepentant, and Nick knew that it would take a while for the anger to fade. He'd pushed Phil the same way in the beginning, running him ragged until they both collapsed—but this wasn't Phil. This was Clint, and the only grudges Phil ever held were when someone even came close to hurting Clint.

"I'm an awful boss, an asshole, and I'm sorry," Nick replied sincerely. 

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line; then a quiet huff, and the tension in Nick's shoulders finally began to ease with Phil's unspoken forgiveness.

_"You will be. I want a pot of Tasha's coffee and a box of chocolate croissants from that place on Staten Island that Clint likes. And lox and bagels from the Second Avenue Deli because I hate you."_

"Anything else?" Nick asked, a smile playing around his lips.

_"If Stark annoys me I reserve the right to dismember him—Clint, baby, that's burn cream, not toothpaste—and Clint's only going to be there for intel, he's not going out into the field today. He's too tired and I'm not risking him. We'll be there within an hour—please put the razor down, I don't trust you with anything sharp right now— ...or two."_

Nick shook his head, grinning openly as he tucked away the files on his desk, reaching for the keys to his car. He generally preferred the helicarrier as his mode of transportation, but using it to pick up breakfast was probably considered a misuse of resources. And he couldn't send anyone else out to get the confectionaries, either—Phil would _know_ if he had. 

"Thank you, Phil," he said, with a fondness borne of years of friendship.

Phil snorted, and Nick could practically see the scowl creasing his forehead.

_"You may not be thanking me later. I had **plans** for today, Nick, and I'm not happy about breaking them. And if—no, **no** , the electric razor stays **out** of the shower—"_

There was a loud clatter as the phone hit the floor, the line going dead, and Nick chuckled and left to run his errands. 

\--

_It isn't until after that he discovers just what the magnitude of the plans he interrupted was._

_Phil and the other Avengers take out the HYDRA cell that had been selling advanced-technology weapons to crime lords in the city, and by the proud look Thor keeps giving Phil when they all get back, he'd taken a good deal of his anger out on the unlucky HYDRA agents. Natasha goes to curl up with Clint for a nap—since Phil had shamelessly drugged Clint's coffee once all the important intel had been relayed—and Phil finds his way to Nick's office, movements lazy and indolent like a too-pleased cat._

_And when he sprawls across the couch in the corner a small, innocuous box tumbles from a pocket in his suit._

_Phil looks at it. Nick looks at it. Then Phil smoothly reaches out and picks the box back up, tucking it away again._

_"If you tell Clint before I ask him tonight, I will maim you in horrible, painful ways that the Geneva Convention could never even **begin** to imagine."_

_He's deathly serious but Nick still can't help the silly grin that spreads across his face, and after a taut, tense moment, Phil grins back. It takes decades off his features, the boyish excitement bright and beaming as he gives in and shows Nick the elegantly simple platinum bands._

_When Phil finally leaves to take Clint home, Nick doesn't bother wishing him luck._

_He knows he doesn't need it._


End file.
